


Phonophilia

by nerddowell



Series: Drabbles + ficlets [3]
Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Filth, M/M, Pure Porn, Rimming, im sorry grandma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 07:17:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11203098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerddowell/pseuds/nerddowell
Summary: Phonophilia: the love of sound.Or, Philippe has this one noise he makes, and it's the Chevalier's life goal to hear it as often as humanly possible.





	Phonophilia

**Author's Note:**

> I did it. I finally wrote Monchevy porn.
> 
> I am going to hell.

The Chevalier has always enjoyed sex. What sane man wouldn't? The sweaty slide and slap of body against body, fingernails raking down his back lending just the right amount of pain to his pleasure, the heat like a glove around his cock, the noises his lovers make... Ah, yes. One noise in particular, from the sweet, cream-pale throat of his darling Monsieur.

Halfway between a whimper and a mewl, Philippe makes this noise only very rarely. Once, when they were both young and comparatively inexperienced, it was when the Chevalier took him all the way into his throat whilst pressing a knuckle against the spot behind his balls that sent bliss rocketing through his body as he reached his _petit mort_. At first Chevalier had thought it his darling's customary orgasmic utterance; he had soon discovered this theory to be wrong, when - during a marathon of play lasting a whole afternoon and well into the night - he had wrung so many orgasms out of Monsieur's body that he had gone from yells of ecstasy to soft cries to broken whimpers, none quite like this elusive noise.

The next time Philippe had made the noise had been when the Chevalier had tied him to the bed with two silk cravats and had been gently, so gently, slowly fucking him for hours, the smooth push and pull in and out of Philippe's body torturous for both of them as the Chevalier draped himself over the prince's back. Philippe had made the noise, the soft broken gasp-moan-mewl in the back of his throat like a kitten before gasping _Please_ and arching his back, and the Chevalier had acquiesced. He had fucked Philippe to completion in minutes, forgetting the languorous pace of before to hold his love down and fuck him furiously into the mattress, pounding between Philippe's legs as the prince sobbed and writhed, clinging to his bindings. Philippe had been sore for days, wincing every time he sat down, and the glares were wholly worth it for that split second of the noise echoing in the Chevalier's ears.

The third time had been one of the times they had invited another into their bed, a lithe youth with a cock like a horse's and lips made to suck. Philippe had his cock in the boy's mouth and the Chevalier's cock inside him, with teeth scraping at his shoulder and hands gripping his torso. The boy had sucked him down into his throat, far enough to gag, at the exact moment the Chevalier had thrust in, cock gliding over his prostate, and he had shuddered and spent into the boy's mouth as he clenched around the Chevalier, tossing his head back against the other man's shoulder.

This time, with Philippe spread out beneath him, one eyebrow raised in challenge, the Chevalier is determined to hear it again. He runs his fingers over Philippe's bare skin, watching the flesh goosepimple in his wake. His mouth trails from Philippe's lips over his jaw and down his neck, first to one nipple, then the next; Philippe arches and moans, reaching to tangle a hand in the Chevalier's hair and encourage him further south. A moan, but not the noise he wants.

He takes Philippe's cock into his mouth, rolling his balls gently in one palm, squeezing ever so slightly, massaging as his lips slide wetly, well practised, over the stiff flesh to tongue at the head, dipping into the slit to lap up the fluid beading there. Philippe writhes, tightens his grip, pushes him down - poor etiquette, but the Chevalier himself has been known more than once to be terribly greedy in bed, and so Philippe is forgiven - and the Chevalier obeys. Takes him in until wiry curls tickle his nose and Philippe groans, pants, begs; but still does not make that sought-after noise.

The Chevalier pulls off Philippe's cock with a wet pop, giving the tip one last affectionate kiss, before nosing his way down past his balls, pushing Philippe's thighs wide with his hands. His lover hums in confusion, trying to wriggle away, but the Chevalier presses on - and laves his tongue in one fat stripe over Philippe's hole, hands holding his cheeks apart. The prince's legs try to snap closed about his head, his hands shoving at the Chevalier's head in outrage, but he keeps on.

'Trust me,' he coos, watching the little pink pucker wink nervously, teasing it with the tip of one blunt thumb, 'you may enjoy it.'

'It's disgusting!' Philippe cries, but another stroke of the Chevalier's tongue over his entrance coupled with a gentle suck has him collapsing back against the bed with a whimper. The Chevalier licks over him again and again until his hole is sloppy and glistening with spit before flipping them over to have Philippe lying on top of him.

He takes hold of Philippe's waist, noting the leaking red cock firm against his stomach, and drags him up, turning him around like a doll to present his ass to the Chevalier's questing mouth.

'Come here, my love,' he murmurs, tugging gently on Philippe's hips, and settles him down astride the Chevalier's face, thighs either side of his head where it's propped up on a pillow. The Chevalier threads his arms through the gap in Philippe's spread legs, gripping each cheek gently but firmly to hold them apart, and reengages with gusto. He presses his tongue against Philippe's entrance, pushing deeper until he breaches the guardian muscle and can fuck him, quick jabs of his tongue as far into Philippe as he can manage. Monsieur above him sobs, arches, slams his fists against the walls and bedposts, hollers like a whore; the Chevalier grins against his arse, lifting Philippe away slightly to admire his work, and the prince whimpers.

'Don't stop,' he begs - begging, from a prince - 'don't stop, don't stop!' He cries out as the Chevalier laves another long, teasing flat stripe over his hole before throwing him forward, dragging his hips up and sucking two fingers into his mouth before plunging them into Philippe and scissoring.

The prince does it again. Makes the noise, the wrecked, beautiful noise, and the Chevalier fucks him through it with fingers and tongue alike, ignoring Monsieur's oversensitised cries of protest and whines until he feels the muscle contract and his lover's body spasm and arch, and Philippe comes all over the rich velvet coverlet with a thin, fucked-out cry of the Chevalier's name before collapsing against the mattress, sheened with sweat and still trembling with pleasure.

The Chevalier moves up for a kiss, but that, it would seem, is where Philippe draws the line. No matter, he thinks smugly. He has got what he wanted anyway.


End file.
